


Family Ties

by Harukami



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefen doesn't have a family of his own, but Vanyel comes with a big one. Mostly Stefen just loves Vanyel and everything that makes him up, though, family included.</p><p>My wife wanted to read some Stef/Vanyel smutfic so I wrote this. I tried to write it in the style of the original books which lead to some... interesting... stylistic choices. Forgive me for it but hopefully it works lmfao.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

Vanyel reentered the room he was sharing with Stefen in Forst Reach with such a dazed look on his face that immediately Stefen was worried that the leech-blade was somehow still bothering him. He got his gittern off his lap and onto the bed in a heartbeat and dashed over to help support him, but Vanyel just blinked owlishly at him and waved him off. "What? No—" that much answering the waves of concern he must have felt rolling off of Stef. "I'm fine."

"You look..." Stefen looked him over carefully. "Well, beautiful, of course, always _that_. But something seems to have taken the wind out of you."

"It's just—my father."

Stefen assumed the worst, slowly leading Vanyel over to the bed, but once he'd gotten him seated and had taken a seat next to him, he realized Vanyel was smiling, a stunned, delighted smile, tears in his eyes. "He did something that made you happy?" Stefen ventured.

"I don't even know," Vanyel admitted. "I don't think I've even processed it. Stef, he approves of me. He approves of you."

"Well, I did help protect his wife."

"That wouldn't do it," Vanyel said at once. "No, I mean, of course he'd be grateful, but not... it's not the same. He—perhaps doesn't _approve_ , but he supports... _us_."

Stef chewed on the inside of his cheek. "He almost lost _you_ as well."

"I suppose," Vanyel said, eyes a little wide, expression wondering. He reached out, pushing Stefen's floppy hair out of his eyes. "I didn't think that'd... well."

Leaning into the touch, Stefen said, "They really do love you, you know. In their own way."

"I do know," Vanyel said hesitantly. "But they didn't for a long time. That's true too."

Stefen sighed, and then moved forward abruptly, slinging a leg over Vanyel's, pressing him back into the bed. The gittern bounced with the movement and Vanyel groped out a hand to find it and move it safely to the floor. Stefen loved him even more for it. "I've never known the love of a parent, or the hate of one," Stef began.

He saw guilt enter Vanyel's eyes at once. "I know, Stef. Sorry—"

"No, shh, Vanyel- _ashke_. I can't share this experience with you, that's all. But I can love you enough for the world."

It wasn't enough to say it. He was determined to _show_ it and began with a kiss, sliding his fingers into Vanyel's white-streaked hair, pressing his mouth firmly to his. It was still a wonder, still completely amazing, when Vanyel kissed him back, open-mouthed and eager.

"Stef," Vanyel murmured, and Stefen felt his heart clench at the sound of his name in Vanyel's mouth. Vanyel was smiling against him, the expression pulling his lips up against Stefen's, and Stef kissed him again and again until he was breathless with it.

When he pulled back, he suspected he was blushing, and he knew Vanyel was, his fair and fine skin showing it easily. The man's expression was truly relaxed, truly open for what Stef thought might be the first time he'd ever seen. 

"You're too beautiful," he told Van and put the pillow over his face.

He felt Vanyel's muffled laughter before he heard it, leaned down into Vanyel's touch as Vanyel groped out past it to find his arms, his sides, his hips. It was funny; he was so experienced, had slept with _so_ many other men, while Vanyel—for all that he was twice Stefen's age—was so relatively chaste. But Vanyel made him feel like he was blushing and fumbling. Still, he refused to let himself succumb, not when he could focus on blowing Van's mind instead. 

And maybe something else.

He slid down slowly, dragging his hands along Vanyel's slides, down his hips as he shifted off the bed, kneeling at the edge. He heard Vanyel's laughter trail off, saw Vanyel pull the pillow off his face and prop himself up a little, expression gone a little slack as he gazed down at Stef.

Stef grinned up at him rakishly and thought, _I better not have gotten rusty in the time you kept me at arm's length, Vanyel!_

And with that, he drew out Vanyel's hardening shaft and dragged his tongue up it. 

The noise Vanyel made was positively inhuman, and although Stefen had earned more than a few of those in the short time since they'd gotten together, it still heartened him to hear. It made him want nothing but to hear _more_ , fitting his mouth around Vanyel, moaning back encouragingly as he worked him.

Vanyel didn't—quite—clutch Stefen's hair, but he threaded his fingers through it over and over. His breath came more rapidly, stomach clenched, clearly trying to stay polite, stay nice, not just thrust into the welcoming warmth of Stefen's mouth. Stefen wanted to tell him that he didn't mind, but his mouth was too busy to do so; he didn't let himself stop, didn't _want_ to stop, fingers tight around the base while he worked the head almost brutally firmly, wanting to drag Vanyel to the end.

"Stef," Vanyel breathed. And then, "Oh, Stefen, this is—today has been—everything's so—" which was a level of incoherence that Stefen allowed himself to be proud of.

He lost himself to rhythm, to bobbing and sucking and pulling at the velvety skin of Vanyel's length over and over until suddenly, and fortunately, Vanyel was warning him, a tug, a,

"Stef, _please_ —"

But of course Stef didn't stop, took him deeper, swallowed as Vanyel let out a sob of pure pleasure and found release in Stefen's mouth.

He kept sucking, kept swallowing, until he was sure Vanyel was done, let Vanyel slide out of his mouth and grinned up at him. It was hard to stay still, hard to give him that heavy-lidded grin when he was so ready to be touched himself, but worth it, seeing Vanyel blink rapidly at him. "I love you," Stef said.

"Oh," Vanyel said, unintelligently. And then, "Yes, Stef. I love you, I _love_ you. Come here?"

Stef undid his pants, stepping out of them as he climbed up the bed, only wearing the loose billowy poet's shirt that he'd taken to wearing around Forst Reach. Vanyel certainly didn't seem to mind the look, his eyes widening again as he looked Stefen over, as Stefen straddled his chest, hands pinning his shoulders down. 

"Here I am," Stefen said.

And then Vanyel smiled again, that wonderful, blissful smile, and reached for Stefen's hips, pulling him forward, dragging him in to return the favor. _I could die_ , Stefen thought as Vanyel's mouth wrapped around him, as Vanyel showed without a shadow of a doubt that even if he'd been out of practice until recently, he certainly knew what he was doing.

Not that Stefen could last long, not after how much letting Vanyel take his mouth had affected him. It didn't matter, though, he thought dazedly as he rocked, shuddered, hovered on the edge of climax and groaned, letting himself spill into Vanyel's mouth. It didn't matter.

They'd have the rest of their lives to take as much time as they wanted.

***

"Oh, look," Stefen said, when mail arrived. It was shortly after the unfortunate death of Kilchas, and for a while he'd been concerned Vanyel wouldn't be able to let his misgivings go, but it seemed he'd finally accepted it as an accident and had relaxed again. "Mail from Medren."

"Hm, is that so?"

"A package, it seems. You open that." He tossed it to Vanyel. "Let me see. 'Dearest Stefen,' it begins, which is really very sweet."

"Not addressed to me at all?" Vanyel said, mock-hurt, as he began to cut open the package.

Stefen stuck his tongue out briefly. "Be patient, Vanyel- _ashke_ ," he retorted. Then, "'Dearest Stefen, finally. I thought that cranky bastard would never give in.' Hm, maybe I shouldn't read this aloud."

"Is it going to get worse?" Vanyel wondered idly.

"'Honestly,'" (Stefen read aloud), "'with how stubborn my uncle was, I wasn't sure we'd get anywhere, but I couldn't be happier for you and him both. And lifebonded as well—it seems like lightning doesn't just strike but once. I've sent you a bond in honor of your new bond. Use it wisely. Ps, be gentle on Uncle Van. He's really quite sensitive.' Medreeeeen," Stefen groaned. "I thought you knew me."

There was a clank of metal as Vanyel got the package open. "It's a poor joke," Van said dryly, holding up the parcel. "Is he worried I'll get away again?"

Stefen glanced over, and then felt his cheeks heat a little at the sight of the cuffs that Vanyel was holding so dubiously. "I don't think that's why he sent it, Van," he said, a little pointedly.

It took Vanyel a moment, and then he went red enough to rival Stefen's shirt. "Oh. _Oh_. No. Absolutely not."

"It's fun."

"I am _not_ making use of anything given to us by my _nephew_ for... for _sex_ ," Vanyel sputtered.

Stefen—who knew exactly how effective it was, having practiced it in front of the mirror—lifted one eyebrow. "You made use of _me_ ," he pointed out. "And let me assure you, Medren has quite the hand in getting us together."

"I. Ah. Hm."

And with that much leverage, it wasn't too hard to convince Vanyel to make use of them, and it wasn't long before Stefen had Vanyel naked on their bed with his hands bound quite firmly over his head.

"Stop staring," Vanyel said, a little scandalized. " _Ashke_..."

"Acres and acres," Stefen sighed contentedly, and stripped too, joining him on the bed, running hands over him. "Have I told you recently how lovely you are?"

"It may have happened," Vanyel said, but his reticence was rapidly melting away into interest, shifting into Stefen's touch. "You're the lovely one, to my eyes. I'm not exactly in my prime."

"You shut up, you're perfect," Stef said, and gave his thigh a firm slap, making Vanyel start and gasp. "Every inch of you."

A little breathless, Vanyel said, shifting, "I thought things were expected to be a bit rougher with this sort of tool. Humiliation and dirty talk."

"Hmm, you want to be embarrassed? You want me to talk dirty to you?" Stefen murmured. He nudged Vanyel's thighs apart, kneeling between them. "I'll do it."

"Stef—"

Stefen leaned over him, kissing and mouthing at his throat, sucking a soft red mark onto it. "Let me tell you how beautiful each strand of silver hair is as it lies against the backdrop of black," he murmured into Vanyel's ear, then sucked that as well. "Mm... let me write poems about it, sonnets, an entire ballad. Each strand glitters like stars against the dark night sky. As they get more white, do you think I'll think you're less beautiful? Then the stars will be even closer, even more beautiful, like I can reach out and touch them." He ran his fingers through Vanyel's hair.

Vanyel was breathing hard, cheeks and ears flushed. "Stefen..."

He moved down. "This line under your eye," he said, and kissed it. "This line by your mouth," and kissed that too. "Do you disparage them, treat them like signs of age, mock yourself for walking so far ahead of me? They're experience, they're a hard life that tells a story. They're the lines of a score, the structure on which you're composed. They're a lute string to play your music. I love them. Gain hundreds over the years and let me count them all, let me play them softly with my lips and fingers."

" _Stef_ ," Vanyel protested, and the look in his eye was both humble and awestruck all at once.

Suddenly, Stef felt like he could barely wait, and he knew, could feel through their lifebond, that Vanyel was in a similar state. He felt in tune with Vanyel, harmonized with him, and if it wasn't him stretched out against the bed, taut arms keeping him from touching, keeping him there, keeping his body tense and taught, he was the musician to play that stretched harp frame.

He reached out to the bedside table, took the vial of oil there, and popped the top open, spreading it over his fingers. He pressed one into Vanyel without hesitating, felt Vanyel arch into it with his need. "Your warmth," Stefen said, though his voice had gone a little weak. "The warmth of your body surrounding me, everything that your body is made of. Do you think that's something I'll denigrate, humiliate?"

Vanyel was already moving around that finger, arching and shifting with slow, deliberate gestures, already deeply relaxed, and Stefen read his body and pressed a second finger in to join it, curling them forward and up until Vanyel gasped. "Is this dirty enough for you, Van?" he whispered. "Is this humiliating enough? Knowing how perfect you are? Knowing how I see you?"

Tugging at his bonds, Vanyel let out a whimper. "Stef... _ashke_... I want to hold you...!"

"No, see," Stefen said, and withdrew his fingers, smiling down at Vanyel beatifically. "That's the trick. Your hands are up there and they're not going anywhere. If you want to hold me, hold me with your body."

Moaning, flushed and desperate, Vanyel _did_ , grabbing at Stef with his legs, pulling him in. Stefen laughed, more out of giddiness than anything else, and used the rest of the oil on his own length before pressing against him, pressing in.

"Perfect," Stefen whispered to him, beginning to thrust slowly, rhythmically. Vanyel was relaxed and welcoming, pulling him deep. "Perfect. You're amazing, Vanyel. I can feel your heart beating."

Vanyel groaned, tightened around him, doing what Stef had said— _holding_ him as best he could, thighs gripping Stefen's hips. Stefen felt that and couldn't keep it up, couldn't keep talking, just moved and moved and moved, tried to match every rolling, desperate motion Vanyel was making. Worked in him fast and deep, stroked him until Vanyel tightened on him and came with a cry, spattering across his stomach, and Stefen couldn't hold out feeling that, came right after.

He lay on Vanyel for a few moments, trying to catch his breath.

It was Vanyel who spoke first, afterwards. "And if I'm the night sky, what are you?" he said, his voice a little hoarse from their exertions. "The sunset? Arching over me with your hair glittering in the light like a falcon's wings caught from behind by the setting sun..."

"The sunset, of course. Following after you, my night, where I belong," Stefen murmured, and reached up to unfasten the cuffs. They came apart with a clink and Vanyel relaxed back in the bed with a sigh, rubbing his wrists only briefly before wrapping his arms around Stefen.

They lay there in silence for another few moments. Then Vanyel said, "You're very flattering, you know."

"I'd hope so," Stefen said, and laughed. "Not in your prime _indeed_. It'll be a cold day before you get _that_ far ahead of me."

"I imagine so," Vanyel said.

***

Treesa cried after the funeral, sobbing and wailing. She collapsed over the empty casket, and Withen had to draw her up. Stefen watched it with a sort of numbness, a memory of Vanyel's voice, _Oh, Mother will always throw a fit when she doesn't get her way._

 _Well, Vanyel, lots of us didn't get our way,_ he thought back, numb and bitter. _Anyone would cry over this. I envy her ability to do so freely._

But even Withen was troubled, brows drawn down, his eyes wet, his cheeks and nose flushed hard. The look was painful, and Stefen stepped forward, reached out, embraced them. "I'm so sorry," he murmured softly. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Treesa was insensible, just sobbing, clutching onto him and Withen almost without seeing him, but Stefen was still surprised when Withen's strong arm came around him too. 

"I didn't—I never told him enough," Withen muttered. He wasn't crying, but his wet eyes were focused on something on the far wall, past Stefen. "I didn't tell him... the right things, ever. That he was... a good son or.... that I was.... that I still ..."

"He knew," Stefen said. "Your love meant the world to him."

Withen struggled, as if he was about to say something else, then just drew himself up. "I'll get her some air," he muttered to himself, directing Treesa away with him, out of that cold hall.

Stefen watched after them until they were out of sight, his own gaze hard. He couldn't cry here, not really. Vanyel wasn't here; the coffin was empty, and wherever any piece of him was to cry over was far away. The closest was the mage focus in his pocket. He felt like it could burn a hole right through.

"Stef." 

Medren's hand closed on Stefen's shoulder and Stefen looked over with a calm, measured stare. "Medren. I'm... I'm so sorry for your loss. I know you and your uncle were so close—"

"Come with me," Medren said.

Medren lead Stefen out of the great hall, lead him away, back to the Bardic Collegium, to the room they used to share together. Reentering it felt like a kick to the stomach, but he went, because Medren was leading him there. There was no reason not to. There was no reason to do anything. 

Sitting down on his bed, Medren pulled Stefen to sit with him. "I'm so sorry," Medren said. "He told me before, back... a long time ago now, I guess. We talked about when he'd lost his Tylendel. He said that living without a lifebond was like... it was like having a cut that wouldn't congeal. Even when it was numb instead of aching, it was always bleeding out, his entire soul bleeding out like that."

Stefen's heart clenched and he looked down at his knees.

"Stefen, let it out. I'm here for you," Medren said, and pulled him close.

Just that. The warmth of someone's body and a heartbeat and not trying to be the one comforting others. Just that, and he started to sob.

***

When Vanyel's ghost had parted from him again, had made him promise to live until his task was achieved, to spend a lifetime serving the people, Stefen started to laugh a little, softly, and cry again, tears dripping down. He touched the broken focus-stone in his pocket.

So he'd live and bleed out. There were plenty of people who needed his support still, Vanyel's family at court, the court itself, the world. It wasn't an experience of his own, the way having a family at all wasn't. Supporting people, changing the world. It was Vanyel's experience.

But if he'd loved Vanyel enough for the world, he might as well love the world.


End file.
